


Junkie

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Fastlane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-22
Updated: 2003-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1626593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Fallon Ash</p>
    </blockquote>





	Junkie

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fallon Ash

 

 

Deaq is on vacation. Billie sat him and Van down in the Candy Store when they came in this morning and said, "Vacation, both of you. I don't want to see either of your faces for two weeks. That's an order." 

Whether it's an order from her or brass is hard to say, but it doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of things. Either way, it'll be a good break. It's been a shitty few weeks: back to back to back (to back? Was it three or four? Van's the one counting this month) cases involving near serious-injury-or-death experiences on someone's part so far, and they'd had charges dropped on one of those because a uniform screwed up the evidence. So Deaq goes back home and goes to sleep, and doesn't wake up until two in the afternoon.   
 

* * *

  
Deaq's hand slid higher, following the sculpted line of Billie's thigh. She shifted, folding her leg around him, her calf pressing against the back of his leg.

"Getting a little ahead of yourself aren't you?" she murmured against his lips. 

"Just adding a little realism." Because realism was just the thing when he had Billie pressed against the wall in front of a backroom door while Van and Bobby C were behind it (no period, because Bobby C was hacker computer geek who thought it made him cool). 

The footsteps echoing from around a bend of the hallway they were in got louder. Billie's hand smacked against the wall. She gave a high, breathy moan, her fingernails scraping rat-a-tat over the mosaic tiles, clawing at it, little "mmm" sounds stuck somewhere between humming and words, like she wanted to say something but was too turned on and distracted to bother. 

The steps quickened, and were clear for a moment as they passed the mouth of the alcove, then echoing again once they were beyond it. Every part of Billie that was touching him felt hot: the hand on his chest, the thigh pressed against his side, the lips on his skin. "Anybody important?" Deaq asked. 

"I don't know," Billie whispered, voice broken with gentle laughter. "He was holding a folder up next to his face." She huffed and rolled her eyes. "How fucking long can it take to hack a stupid password?" 

Deaq breathed laughter against her neck, but thought about a bed and champagne and having the time do things properly.   
 

* * *

  
He doesn't even know what day of the week it is until he checks the calendar. Friday. Five days. He's still got over a week left.  
 

* * *

  
This one was simple enough for them. Two European guys. Arms dealers, hardcore partiers, and, as Billie had put it when she gave them the dossier, "they're loyal to each other, but they'll fuck anything."

Divide and conquer was the order of the day. A party that was no trouble for Billie to get an invite to, with Deaq playing bodyguard and Van coming along as a peace offering (and wasn't that assignment a conversation that Deaq would remember forever?) Billie was chatting up Fritz, while Van was playing Holly Golightly with Jacques across the room-not their real names, obviously, but Deaq hadn't bothered to remember either one of them, and they were French and German, so they were Jacques and Fritz until he decided different. 

Fritz, a very Aryan-looking blond, was talking about Van-a "goodwill gift for your friend" Billie had said-when he paused for the girl sitting next to him, a dark-haired, red-eyed, heroin-chic model type with hipbones and elbows and collarbone everywhere, to say something in his ear. A cigarette dangled from her hand, held by just the tip of the filter, always an afterthought. He nodded, and she stood and toddled away and up the stairs on some of those impossibly high stripper heels, hanging on the arms of two other girls. 

Billie didn't even look back when she gestured with a finger, and Deaq popped the cigarette case open and had a Zippo waiting when she put one to her mouth. She was careful, but never awkwardly, and held it delicately held between two fingers.. 

"He's quite something," Fritz continued. He was watching Jacques and Van, who was sporting a very carefully cultivated artsy but well-kept look-hair loose, stubble, and a hand-tailored suit. They certainly looked comfortable: fresh drinks, Jacques's hand on Van's knee, talking closely about something or another-Deaq couldn't hear what, but knowing Van it was Le Mans. "It was very generous of you." 

Billie's shrug was utterly unselfconscious. "I like to do nice things for my friends." She took a drag from her cigarette and exhaled a soft, curling cloud of smoke. "I'd like to be friends with you." Now _that_ , boys and girls, was the kind of lady that made smoking look cool. 

Deaq stepped away and folded his hands behind his back, half listening to Billie and Fritz talk about the deal she was trying to set up, and half listening to Van flirt his pretty little head off with bad sports car metaphors. 

And he wondered about the girl upstairs, how many different drugs she was on, how many of them were addictions.   
 

* * *

  
The club is a small place, out of the way.

There's a girl on the dance floor that catches his eye, a pretty enough brunette who'd be prettier without all the makeup. Her shirt looks like a bandanna, with maybe a little more fabric. He slides in behind her, his hand on her bare belly, fingers splayed around the little silver ring in her navel. 

She turns around a song later, her back so, so smooth against his arm and doing nothing for him. Her touch is something but not enough, just a pale shadow of what he really craves. He's looking for whiskey, but all he'll get here is a weak beer. 

He clutches just a little tighter at the thought, and the girl smiles. She thinks he's flirting. He smiles charmingly and spins the girl away. 

He hasn't seen her in nine days.   
 

* * *

  
It was the easiest of easy work.

They got to sit at a bar and wait for Van to give the call for backup on the Blackberry from the warehouse next store. There was a guy at the end of the bar watching them, watching Billie. 

When Deaq's pocket buzzed, it was easy- _so_ easy, to lean over and rub his thumb in the dip behind her knee while he whispered in her ear, made sure the guy knew Billie was his. She wasn't, of course, not really, but for a while he got to pretend.   
 

* * *

  
Eventually, even memories aren't good enough. Not memories, not girls. Nothing but going in and nodding at the case and bitching at Van and soaking her in.

Two more days. 

 


End file.
